In the Darkness
by DogStar716
Summary: Sirius is in Azkaban, and the memories that flood him haunt his mind, eventually driving him to do the one thing that allows him to finally escape... mild SR slash, concrit is loved, one-shot, please enjoy!


**In the Darkness**

The darkness is always there. It never leaves. He is falling into himself, and the darkness is leaning into him, foreboding, menacing. His body is always shaking; he can feel it but does not notice. There's nothing to do about it. Everything is dark, and everything is so, so cold.

The grating slides open and he raises his head at the sound. He can't see anything, but he knows that food is being pushed into him on the cold, hard floor that cuts his hands. He crawls over towards the sound, hungering for light, warmth of any kind. He gets none. All he finds is greater darkness, more unhappy memories. He pulls his hair away from his face, and feels on the floor for the bread he knows must be there. He finds it and grasps it hungrily, shoving it into his mouth with the ferocity of a starved tiger. The crust is hard; it brakes on his teeth and cuts his gums. He chews nonetheless, swallowing and wincing at the sharp, rough edges as they pierce his throat. His eyes remain closed; he is still in the darkness. Only when the last moldy crumb has been consumed does he allow his lids to flutter upward. He shuts them again immediately as the flickering light from a single torch hits his pupils, but slowly opens them a crack, allowing his eyes to accommodate themselves to the unexpected light in the darkest of places.

He glances upwards and cringes at the sight he sees. Tall, dark, hooded, and forever imprinted into his life, his guards stand vigil against his escape. At the touch of his gaze, they turn, sucking in the dead air with their dry, rattling sound. His eyes grow wide and he tears himself away from them as he feels his heart drenched in ice. His sight falls upon the bowl of water pushed in with his bread. The murky liquid swirls around, the meager light of the torch illuminated in its depths. It looks like the full moon.

* * *

"_Sirius?"_

_He freezes, the nightmare still very real in his mind, and the figure comes and sits by him. A comforting arm is placed around his shoulders. He shrugs it off, stiffening. He has to be strong; he cannot show weakness. Still, he cannot hide the gasps his breath is coming in, or the shakes of his body, or the way he cannot unclench his hands from the bed sheets._

"_It's alright, Sirius. You can tell me."_

_He doesn't want to tell him. He doesn't want to spill his soul to this person who is sitting quietly beside him. But he can't help it. The words are pouring from his mouth, babbling, incoherent in the darkness. He can see Remus' eyes glitter in the darkness as he chokes out the last words._

"_I still love them, Remus. No matter what they do to me, I will always love them. As much as I hate it, nothing can change that."_

_Then he can say no more. He pushes aside the shame that is bubbling hot and angry up in his throat, swallows the bile. He draws in deep, shaking breaths, trying to keep himself calm, trying to be strong in this darkness. But he can't, not with Remus there, arm around him again. He gives a kind of ragged, strangled cry and buries his face in Remus' neck, body wracked with dry sobs. He cries himself to sleep like that, pushed against Remus, who is muttering incomprehensible, soothing things under his breath to him. Remus who is rocking him slowly, murmuring gently to him._

He chokes, falling back against the wall, shivering uncontrollably. He tries to close his eyes against the memory, tries to block out the shame and horror that is his mind.

* * *

"_How dare you call yourself a Black, you worthless excuse for a wizard? How **dare** you?"_

_The light flashes and the curse hits him, sending him flying backwards into the hard banister with its claws sticking out at the end. He cries out, unable to repress the pain, and the tall man looms over him, grey eyes flashing. Those grey eyes that are so like his, controlled and hard. They show their anger now; he has lost control. They both have lost control, and neither can stand it. Their eyes show it. Their eyes show everything._

"_How you enter this house with your head high I do not know, you filth. I don't know how you can stand the company you keep and still hold your honor. I know your friends; I know the disgraces you speak with. I have been informed. I know what Lupin is. And I know the Pettigrews, purebloods who never lived up to their name. And the Potters, with their bastard son. All of them I know, and they tell me these….these **freaks** are your friends! You disgrace yourself, but more, you disgrace your family, your very **name**! You **have no right to be a Black.**."_

"_Father-"_

_He tries to force himself to his feet, to bite back the bile that rises to his throat when he hears his own pleading tone. As he clings to the banister, the sharp end cutting into his palm, his father casts another curse and he is knocked down to his knees. He bites straight through his lip when he feels his arm wrenched behind his back at an impossible angle; he can hear the bones snap more than he can feel them. But the tears flow anyways, great tears that spill over his eyes and splash down his cheeks. He tries to stand, tries to fight against the strength that is holding his arm behind him, tries to live up at last to what is expected of him. He slumps to the ground, arm useless at his side, and his father laughs. His hair sticks to his face and the blood flowing freely there as he tries to pull it away, tries to look up at the man who has turned his back on him. The anger and fury he has held back for so long boils up maddeningly inside of him, bursting through his lips in a scream as he throws himself at that back, trying to fight away the horror inside himself._

_The last things he sees before the darkness hits him is a giant fist coming at his head; the last thing he feels is his neck snapping sideways against the blow._

His hands fly to his face and a ragged sound escapes his lips without purpose. He tears at his face, trying to claw the memory away from his mind. It doesn't leave, even when the blood runs freely down his cheeks, staining his lips red.

* * *

_He collapses on the rough woven mat, dizzy with the pain. The door is solid against his back; he tries to lean into it and cries out with the pain. He doesn't know how he got there, how he managed to escape. All he knows is that his hands and feet are no longer recognizable as such from the rocks that cut him as he ran, and that every second is a losing battle for his consciousness. He can't see, can barely hear, but feels the door open behind him and feels the cool stone as he falls backwards, gasping with the pain. The rush of warm air that flows over him is even better than that of the evening. He tries to open his eyes, but can't. He faints as a woman's scream echoes dimly within the vaults of his mind._

_He wakes up and can't move. Even breathing causes him unimaginable pain. He can't see anything, something has blinded him. He tries to reach his hands up to his eyes, but it hurts, oh it hurts so much. The limbs refuse to move, screaming with the effort of trying. He can't feel one side of him, and the place he is lying on is soft and squishy and uncomfortable. He retches, tears leaking from his sightless eyes at the pain, but never brings anything up. He is empty. He doesn't know anything, can feel nothing except the pain and the utter shame at what he has done. If only he could remember what it was._

_Millenniums later, or perhaps only minutes, the bandage is being taken off his eyes and the soft, soothing light of the room he is in fills his mind. James is there, hovering nearby with his doe's eyes wide in anxiety. He turns his head and buries his face in the warm blanket covering his body. Strangely, he is reminded of the night he cried himself to sleep on Remus' shoulder, and finds himself wishing for that shoulder now. He needs to hide, hide from the shame he holds deep within himself. There's no way to let it out, save the anger._

_He screams at James until his voice loses itself, trying to rid himself of the desperate emotions he can feel bottled up inside. James stares at him, backing away until he is at the door, then bolting as he growls and tries to throw himself at his friend. Albert Potter watches as James flees the room, then turns to him again, eyes narrowed in concern. He hates that concern, spits at it, tries to get it away from himself. He doesn't need it; he doesn't need anyone's pity. The man is a Healer; he feeds potion after potion to him, never leaves his side. He hates him. He hates him more than anything in the world. He just wants it all to end, wants the man to go away and leave him to fight with his emotions alone. He screams in his sleep now, and tosses in bed, opening and re-opening cuts and wounds. Albert's eyes are wide in fear as he lays cool cloths to his forehead, watching as the fever and delusions worsen with every hour. He hears the Healer telling James that he didn't know if "your friend" would make it._

_He is furious at these words, furious that anyone, especially such a lowly person as this weak little man, would dare assume he would die because of a few curses and scrapes. He forces himself well again; he drives all of the self-pity and shame he feels to the back of his mind and allows his anger to rule him. The anger fuels his mind, fuels his body. He chases the darkness away, chases the fever back into its deep lair at the bottom of the ocean. He will not be subject to anyone's speculation; he can do it himself, without the aid of someone so foolish as to assume he wasn't strong enough. He is always strong enough. He cannot be weak, never again._

_Then there was Remus. Remus with his calm, coming into the room with a hesitant James and sitting on the bed. Remus, who through all of the yelling, screaming, hitting and cursing, stayed quiet and waited for him to finish. Remus who told him that he wasn't going anywhere, and that neither was James. Remus who just showed up one day and refused to leave._

"_We're your friends. Stop acting like we're trying to kill you. We're not killing you, and we're definitely not leaving. None of your famous charm can change that."_

_One night, he cannot stand the horrible, soft bed that he has not left for over three weeks. He forces himself out of the dreaded cage and, dragging his blanket across the smooth wood floor, makes his way slowly and painfully down the stairs and in front of the great fireplace. He sleeps there that night, curled up on the floor in front of the crackling flame, and dreams of curses and blows._

_He sleeps there every night after, dreaming of horrible things. He is there for almost a week when he wakes up from a nightmare, drenched in an icy sweat. He gets up, abandoning his blanket, and climbs the stairs again. He has almost healed completely, then. He can move without pain, and breathe easily. The door in front of him is ajar slightly; he pushes it further and slips in. The bed takes an eternity to get to, but once he is there, he slides under the blankets and faces the ceiling. He can feel Remus roll over onto his side to look at him, and slowly he turns his head to return the gaze. Silently, Remus holds out his arms to him, inviting him into the comfort he so desperately needs._

_The shame he feels is almost unbearable as he pushes his face against Remus' neck. The anger rises up in him again, but this time it is a self-hatred that he feels, and he fights to keep it down, even as the loathing he feels wells up inside of him and Remus holds him close._

_One night, as he lies cradled in Remus' arms, he turns his face up and kisses the boy. It is a gentle kiss, hesitant, foreseen by neither of them. Remus stiffens for only a half second, before slowly returning the kiss, hesitant in his own way. It doesn't last very long, the kiss, and when Sirius pulls away, Remus is looking at him with wide, amber eyes. Sirius' breath catches, and any control he once had goes flying out of him. He kisses Remus again, harder, with more passion and desperation than he's ever really felt for one person._

_Remus' fingers fumble for his pajama top and his own hands work at the buttons on Remus' worn nightshirt. He feels his shirt pulled up over his head and then Remus' lips are on him, sliding down from his throat to worry and tease the skin stretched across his chest. He hates it all, hates that he needs this and that he wants Remus to be there and press his lips against his own. But he can't stop, because he **does** need this, no matter what he tries to deny._

_When it is over, and Remus is lying beside him, breathing quietly, and Sirius can feel the rise and fall of his chest and the heat of his body next to his. He is filled with a sudden hatred for this boy, who is always so calm, always collected. Never does Remus loose control, and he hates him for it. He hates Remus for bringing out the worst parts of him. He hates him for being there, with his quiet and his thought and his wisdom._

_He stands up, shouting, growling. Each word that comes from his mouth is biting, cutting. There's so much emotion that he has to let out, that he can't hold up inside him, and Remus, who is always so controlled, is the target. Because it is Remus who does this to him, and Remus needs to pay. He isn't expecting it when Remus starts shouting back. He doesn't expect Remus to scream at him and lose control. He's **never** heard Remus shout before, never heard Remus raise his voice in anger. He storms out of the room, terrified that if he stays, he will kill his friend._

_The next day, they are all in James' room, tactfully not talking or looking at one another. It is then that the owls come, all four of them. The Howler from his brother, screaming at him, is first. The other letters are just as cold, and by the end of them he's shaking uncontrollably. A kind of desperation and anger combined into one has risen up inside of him; more uncontrollable than even last night. The words are playing over and over again in his head._

"_YOU KILLED THEM! YOU FUCKING BASTARD YOU KILLED THEM!"_

_His parents are dead. They are dead and it is because of him. He doesn't know how he knows this, but it's true. Why else would they have killed themselves like that? He can't do this anymore- he's killed his own parents. All of the shame and agony and hatred he has ever felt boil up inside of him and he turns towards the window. He wants to make it end; he wants to destroy all of these feelings he can't control. The window has a drop, a long drop. It will serve. But Remus catches him before he can jump. James is too scared to move, so Remus moves for him. Remus grabs him by the waist and pulls him back, refusing to let go. He screams at the boy, clawing at his face to make his friend let go. He needs to do this, why can't Remus see that? But Remus refuses, only holds him tighter, yelling incoherent things right back. He never lets go._

_He hates Remus more than he has ever hated anything before. He wants to kill him to rip him to shreds, to get rid of teat ever-present darkness, that ever-present light. He wrenches free of the boy's grasp and spits on him. The look on Remus' face is horrible. And the worst part is, he enjoys the shock and fear and anger playing across his friend's features when he runs from the room to his fireplace._

His fingers claw at the rough stone walls, and his voice is hoarse from screaming. _They're dead because of me_. _They're dead because I killed them._

He cannot bear the shame, he cannot bear it all. No one can stand so much. But the darkness is still there; the light is still reflecting off the water.

* * *

_He's back at school, in the hallway before dinner. The sun is setting outside; he can see it through the window. The moon will be up soon. It will be the second full moon since he's been back at school, and he's not going anywhere. He hates Remus. Remus doesn't deserve to have him there._

"_You're in my way Black."_

_He whirls, glaring at the boy in front of him. Snape has no right to says that **he** is in his way. He hates Snape too; he hates everyone now. He hates them because they hate him. James doesn't hate him, but James doesn't like him anymore either. Remus hates him. Peter stays with James. Snape hates him. McGonagall hates him. He suspects that Dumbledore hates him a tiny bit. Everyone hates him. He doesn't blame them, and he's not going to apologize. It's all Remus' fault anyways. Remus was the one who couldn't bloody go away._

"_Shut up, Snape."_

_Snape smirks, lips curling under his nose. It is infuriating. He wishes Snape would die. Snape would deserve to die. Snape has never been kind, or had friends, or treated anyone with a good word. He knows this is because Snape has never been treated with a good word, but doesn't think this is a proper excuse. Besides, he hates Snape. Why shouldn't Snape die? He glances out the window again and sees the setting sun. It is alit in a flaming blaze of glory, giving one last effort before falling lifeless below the horizon. Remus will be at the Shack now. The moon will rise soon, and then he will transform._

_Transform into a raging, killing, mindless beast without him there to help calm him. Raging, killing, mindless beast. **Killing**._

_Snape is saying something. He doesn't hear him. Instead, a slow smile curves the corners of his mouth as he turns cold grey eyes on Snape._

"_What did you say?"_

"_I said, you don't seem to be out with your friend. It's about that time of month isn't it? He hasn't been at classes today. Aren't you going to go shag him or something? That's what you four do, isn't it? Each month? Must be terribly exciting."_

_He almost laughs aloud at the way Fate has unwittingly played straight into his hands. Snape will die tonight, because he hates him. And he hates Remus. He hates everyone, and the opportunity is too great to pass up. His voice is calm, smooth, giving away no trace of the sudden excitement he feels._

"_No, Snape, we don't shag. Sorry to destroy the mental porn you had flitting through your oh-so-empty head. You **would** like to know where he- we go every month, wouldn't you?"_

_Snape sneers at the insult, but doesn't respond. He smiles lazily, feeling like a cat toying with its captured prey. It's all too perfect. Finally, Snape says, "Yes, I want to know. I know you're doing something illegal and I'm going to find out what it is. I'm going to get you caught and make you pay."_

"_There's nothing you can do to me. But yes, it is illegal. Oh, yes, it's terribly illegal. You'd just love it. But, I don't think I'll tell you. I don't think you **deserve** to know."_

_He finds himself suddenly pushed up against the wall, and Snape's face is centimeters from his own._

"_Tell me." The snarling voice is filled with a sudden curiosity and a kind of anger. "I don't want to listen to your mind games, Black, just tell me where the fuck Lupin goes every month."_

_He widens his smile as the final efforts of the sun fade into the sky. It is almost completely dark. "The Whomping Willow. It freezes. I'm almost certain you can figure it out from there. After all, your intelligence surpasses all, doesn't it, Snape?"_

_Snape doesn't answer. The sallow-faced boy simply drops him and turns on his heel, striding purposefully towards the Entrance Hall, satisfaction written plainly across his features._

_He laughs quietly at the simplicity of it all and goes up to the Gryffindor Common Room, hands folded across his chest and a smirk playing at his lips. He meets James, who greets him coldly and asks what he's been doing. When he answers truthfully, James almost leaps out of his skin in horror, pausing only to curse at him before tearing off down through the corridors after Snape._

_This time he laughs aloud at the power he holds in his hands. He can destroy lives with a single word. He **did** destroy lives with a single word. The power makes him feel ten feet tall._

He can't scream anymore. His voice is gone. He beats his fists uselessly against the walls and against his head, trying to block the images out.I_ did this._I_ betrayed my best friends, andI liked it. _Tears fall from his face and he croaks out one word to the darkness.

"Remus…"

* * *

"_Sirius? Are you here?"_

_The voice echoes throughout the small flat and he looks up from the book he is reading. Absently, he checks his watch. He needs to leave soon so that they can perform the charm. He marks his place in the book and stands up, searching for the owner of the voice. It doesn't take him long._

"_Hey, Pete. I'm just about to leave. Want a cup of tea?"_

_Peter smiles, taking off his cloak and hanging it up on the rack. "Sure, why not? Just thought I'd stop by to wish you luck before you left. Glad I caught you."_

_He grins back and sets about making tea. "Thanks. I'll probably need it. This charm is so fuckin complicated it's scary. I was going through it with Eva- Lily, I mean. Damn, it's been over two years since they got married and I **still** call her Evans. Doesn't help that we never got on well, does it?"_

_Peter shakes his head, laughing. "She gets awful mad about it too. I've heard her. She was never all that fond of you, you know. More than once she's asked James what he ever saw in you."_

_He shrugs, pouring the hot water- magicked into heat with a flick of his wand- into two mugs. "Yeah, well, then the feeling's mutual. What'd James say when she asked him?"_

"_Something about how you're his best friend and that's all that should really matter." Peter accepted the mug with a grateful nod and took a sip. "Ah, that's good. Thanks, mate. Anyways, the last time I heard her ask, think it was a week ago or so, he said that he wasn't too sure. It was odd; he got all thoughtful and muttered something about not knowing you anymore."_

_He looks up sharply from his own mug, grey eyes narrowed over the rim. "Not knowing me how?"_

_Peter squirms uncomfortably. "I'm not sure, I wasn't supposed to be listening, you know? But, I've been talking with him some, and he keeps…complaining. About how you never spend time with him anymore, how you're always with Remus. Says that he's married to Lily and he still finds time to spend with **you.** He, he said," here Peter pauses, hesitant. He takes another swallow of tea before continuing, his voice hushed. "He said that you being gay and all changed you. He said you weren't the same Sirius, and he wasn't sure he liked the new one as much."_

_He sets his mug down sharply, spilling the hot liquid all over the table and his hand. He ignores it, glaring at Peter. "He said **what**?"_

"_Sirius, I'm really sorry." Peter looks anxious to be in the same room with him right now, when he's getting angry. He stands up, finishing his tea off abruptly. "Look, you should be going, don't want to be late, you know."_

_He stands up also, eyes hard, fists clenched. "Oh, I'm not going anywhere. He can find another damned Secret Keeper if he needs one so badly."_

"_But-"_

"_Go, Peter. Just, go. I need to think."_

_Peter scurries form the room without another word, pausing only to grab his cloak from the rack on his way out._

_He turns and looks out the window, burning with anger. The full moon is just rising over the horizon. The otherwise dark sky is illuminated with silvery light._

"_He can rot in Hell if he thinks that. If he thinks that, Voldemort **should** get him, the bloody bastard. Let him find another Secret Keeper. I won't do it. I won't help some git who thinks that I've changed just because I'm bloody **gay.**"_

_He says all this aloud without knowing it, his eyes fixed on the full moon. He stands like that for the rest of the night._

_The next day, he picks up a copy of the Daily Prophet when the owl carrying it swoops in through his open window. He spits out his tea as he sees the headline._

_**Potters Murdered By You-Know-Who! Sirius Black Betrays Them To Their Deaths!**_

_His eyes are wide. He hasn't betrayed anyone. He hasn't killed anyone. He's not a Death Eater. Where could this have come from? **Peter**._

_Realization comes crashing in on him, realization of what he did, what **Peter** did. He stands up, wand at his side and fists clenched. He's going to kill the traitor. He's going to kill them all._

He's crushed into the corner of his cell now, huddled into himself and shaking uncontrollably. _I killed them, I killed them, it's my fault._ A wave of hopelessness and shames washes over him like a tidal wave, unavoidable, lethal. His eyes fly open and his mouth stretches wide in a silent scream. _I killed them. I killed them because I'm too proud to give a damn about my friends._

"Remus…" The sound is a croak, hoarse and dry. It hurts his throat with every word. "Oh god, Remus, I tried. I couldn't help it, you weren't there. You weren't there to talk to me. I killed them…I killed them…it was me…no. No, no it couldn't have been me. I didn't kill them. They were my friends. It wasn't my fault. If it was my fault I'd be insane. Remus, listen to me, I didn't do it. It…it was Peter, yes! Peter did it, Remus, not me. I swear I didn't do it. It was Peter. I…I thought that I could trick them, thought I could bluff out of it. Thought I switch and use Peter and no one would know. Do you understand, Remus? I didn't do it; it wasn't my fault. It was Peter. Peter betrayed us, I didn't know. I swear I didn't know. I thought it was a trick. I was never mad; I just thought I could trick Voldemort. I didn't know he was a spy. It wasn't my fault. Oh God, Remus, I didn't do it. Don't hate me, Remus; I didn't do it. It wasn't my fault. Do you hear me, Remus? I said I swear to God I didn't do it…"

He pauses, raising his eyes to look at the darkness through his matted hair. There is a wild kind of fire burning in those grey eyes now, no more hopelessness, no more shame. The anger is back, anger and a kind of pleading in his voice as he says the words again. "Did you hear me? I said, I _swear to God I didn't DO IT!"_

A low growl fills the chamber, and the torchlight glints off long fangs in the darkness.

FIN

* * *

Alright, I hope everyone enjoyed it, and please remember concrit is always welcomed! I hope it wasn't TOO confusing... just so that everyone knows, the italics are when Sirius is ahving a memory. And when he's talking to Remus in Azkaban, Remus isn't really there; he's mostly talking to the part of him that takes the form of Remus. 

Please review, and don't flame, it's pointless. Tell me WHY you odn't like it, not jsut that you don't like it, please.

Cheers, Pads


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